


Turning Point

by RedZipBoots



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 13:05:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14285538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedZipBoots/pseuds/RedZipBoots
Summary: The decision to try for Amnesty. Some missing scenes from the Pilot episode.





	Turning Point

The ground appeared little more than a blur as it rushed past beneath them. The two outlaws had been in a flat out gallop for some time now and knew they were pushing their horses to their limits, but they had no choice. The posse was right on their tail and the only way to lose it would be to disappear into the maze of canyons known as Devil's Hole. There was only one problem - they had to get there first.

Kid Curry glanced over at his cousin. "There's one thing we gotta get, Heyes!" he yelled above the sound of pounding hooves.

"What's that?"

"Outta this business!"

Hannibal Heyes was just about to make a flippant retort when a bullet whizzed over his right shoulder and he pressed himself as low to his mount's neck as was physically possible. More bullets followed. 

Instead he shouted. "I thought we mighta lost 'em by now."

"These fellas are good," replied Curry, as he too stayed low in his saddle.

"Yeah, too good!" Even at a gallop Heyes managed to look perplexed.

Both men prayed that their horses wouldn't be hit by the gunfire; a fall at this speed would undoubtedly be fatal for both man and beast and it was becoming increasingly obvious that the sheriff leading this posse didn't care how they were captured. After all, the bounty on both of them was payable dead or alive.

Amid the noise and the dust, not to mention the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, Heyes silently berated himself for miscalculating how long it would take the posse from Columbine to catch up with them. Maybe his pocket watch was running slow or maybe he was just losing his touch; Wheat and the boys certainly seemed to think so. 

He wondered how the rest of the Devil's Hole Gang were faring; after all, they hadn't even mounted up when this posse had come thundering after him and the Kid. If they were smart, and that was a big 'if' in his opinion, they would have set off in the opposite direction and try to make their way back to the Hole through the mountain pass.

Ten minutes later and the two outlaws appeared to have succeeded in putting a little more distance between themselves and their pursuers, at least enough to be out of range of their six guns, but both their horses were now starting to labour badly. 

Heyes grabbed at his hat and took a good long look over his shoulder to check on the whereabouts of the posse before allowing himself to reflect a little more on their current situation. 

He figured it would be fair to say that it had not been one of their best days. 

The train hold-up had turned out to be an embarrassing disaster. Oh, they had stopped the engine alright and none of the passengers had made any trouble, but they couldn't blow the safe because the dynamite was wet and there hadn't been enough time for him to try to crack it.  
Wheat had started to get proddy. There was nothing unusual in that but, now he thought about it, he had tried to undermine Heyes the whole time - make him look bad in front of the rest of the gang.

Then, to top it all, hauling the Brooker 202 up that mountain and pushing it off to try and bust it open was definitely not one of his better ideas. Much to his chagrin the safe stayed in one piece. No, that's an understatement, the dang thing had tumbled all the way to the bottom and landed in the mud of the riverbank without so much as a dent, or a scratch on its paintwork. In fact, all he had succeeded in doing was tiring out their horses so now they couldn't shake this posse.

As they rounded a bend Kid's horse faltered and almost went down. It was only the Kid's skill as a rider, making the split second decision when to push the horse forward with his legs and seat, that stopped the unthinkable from happening and confirmed what Heyes already knew - he had to think of something, and fast.

The touch of a light breeze felt cold as it dried the sweat on his face. It was then that he realized they must be nearing the river once more, and less than a minute passed before he could hear the rush of water.

The trail was once again following the riverbank and he concentrated on searching ahead for a gap in the trees which could indicate a possible crossing point. At the speed they were travelling Heyes knew they would have to act quickly and, glimpsing a likely spot, he barely had time to shout "the river!" to Kid before turning his horse and purposely slowing the animal so that it made deep prints in the mud before it entered the water. 

Despite the recent rains the river was not flowing very fast, but it was deep. Raising their boots clear of the water the two men walked their mounts toward the middle of the channel. Here Heyes looked left and right, hurriedly considering their options before aiming his horse's nose downstream towards the bank they had just left. Curry followed, his brow momentarily wrinkled in confusion until he saw where his partner was headed.

A few hundred yards away a cluster of large willow trees reached their tendril-like branches in a veritable curtain of green down towards the water's surface. Heyes hoped that the cover would be thick enough and, provided they could get there in time and the horses would stand quietly, it might just conceal them long enough to throw off the posse.

Ducking their heads they pushed through the long swaying branches and pulled their horses to a halt in the shallows, facing the bank. 

"Do you really think this'll work?" hissed Curry as they lengthened their reins to let their winded horses stretch their necks down to the cool water. 

Heyes pushed his black hat away from his eyes. "I sure hope so," he replied.

"And when they don't find any tracks on the other side?" 

"Well, they're so intent on catching us that I'm hoping they'll follow the trail on the other side without looking too close for tracks."

Curry puffed out his cheeks. "Bit of a long-shot, ain't it?"

The outlaw leader glanced sideways at his cousin and shrugged. "Even a genius has to have a little faith now and then, Kid." 

The sound of numerous hoof beats and the jingling of bits and bridles made both men stiffen, and Curry's right hand strayed towards his holster to rest on the butt of his revolver. Heyes gently stroked his mare's neck and both men held their breath as they listened to the posse plough noisily into the river. Their own horses looked up, pricking their ears forward and shifting uneasily. However, any sound they might have made was drowned out by the shouts from the men and the splashing and snorting of their mounts as they crossed the river, headed up the opposite bank, and rode away down the trail.

Praying they had bought themselves enough time, Heyes and Curry waited a few minutes more before nudging their horses up the bank and once again hightailing it towards Devil's Hole.

 

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

 

The ground was dry and strewn with loose rocks making each hoof beat loud enough to reverberate off the canyon walls. Although the two outlaws had at last reached the area known as Devil's Hole, the hideout itself was still over an hour's ride away. Even so, they felt safe enough to slow their horses to a walk for a while.

Kid Curry looked over at Heyes and took in his partner's dust-covered clothes and his grimy face, a result of the combination of dust and sweat. 

" Heyes, you sure do look a sight," he said with some amusement.

"You're not exactly lookin' too fancy yourself," came the acerbic reply. 

Kid grinned and brushed at his sleeve causing a substantial cloud of trail dust to fly into the air. He coughed and then groaned inwardly. It was going to take him the best part of the evening to clean this dust out of their guns.

They rode on in silence for a while, Heyes resting forward on his saddle horn, lost in his own thoughts, while the Kid kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. Suddenly, the outlaw leader spoke, almost startling the blond. 

"Y' know, Kid, I can remember a time when staying one jump ahead of a posse was fun." 

"Fun?!"

"Yeah, fun. You know; you, me and the boys all ridin' lickety-split. It was kinda exciting." He smiled wistfully. 

Kid gave his cousin a sideways look. "If you call being shot at 'exciting'."

"Aaww, we haven't always been shot at."

Curry stared wide-eyed at his cousin. 

"The hell we haven't!" he griped. "Did you notice those things flyin' past us today, Heyes? Well, unless I'm mistaken, they're called bullets and I can recall you stoppin' one or two in the past. I've had my fair share too, in case you've forgotten. We've both got the scars to prove it!"

Heyes held up a warning finger as he shook his head. "Okay. Don't get started." He didn't want Kid to go on about the Hanford job again. Thinking about today's failed job was bad enough without raking up another one to go with it.

Curry looked thoughtfully at his partner. "So, what ya tryin' to say, Heyes?"

"I guess I was just wondering...." Dark brown eyes looked seriously into blue. "When did it stop being fun?"

Returning his attention to the trail Heyes flicked his split reins, pushing his mare into an easy lope. Kid followed a short distance behind, his brows knitted together in thought.

Devil's Hole itself consisted of a landscape riddled with slot canyons and gullies most of which were interconnecting, but some had dead ends. It was this mix which made it so difficult for the law to penetrate. They had tried a number of times, but there were too many possible routes and too many places where an ambush could occur, so they tended to stay away.

The law also couldn't rely on following any tracks the outlaw gang might leave. For some strange reason the Hole seemed to get more rainfall than the rest of the countryside in those parts and so any signs of entry and exit were constantly being washed away. Conversely, the drainage was good so the ground dried up again quickly, except in the winter when heavy snowfall made movement in or out virtually impossible.

As he rode today's chosen route through to the hideout, Kid Curry considered his partner's question and, although he had never thought running from a posse was 'fun', he had to admit he did used to get a kind of thrill from it. Nowadays - not so much. 

It certainly didn't take a genius like Heyes to realize that the posses were getting bigger; there had been about twenty men in the one today, he was sure. And they were more determined. A few years ago they might have been chased for a couple of hours but nowadays the pursuit was relentless. He guessed that might have something to do with the increased bounty on their heads.

Sheriffs were getting smarter too. Mind you, today the sheriff could have been as dumb as a fencepost and he still would have picked up their trail. With the deep grooves they had left behind as they dragged the safe from the train a blind man could have tracked them.

There was another thing too; safes were getting - well, safer. The locking mechanisms were more complex and definitely harder to crack. Lately, Heyes either needed a lot more time on a job in order to manipulate the tumblers or his plans had to be more involved, not to mention dangerous. He was now having to incorporate the use of dynamite more often or, in extreme circumstances, nitro-glycerine like when they'd robbed the Merchants' Bank in Denver.

The more he thought about it the more Kid realized that, underneath the grime covering his face, Heyes looked weary and, more worryingly, some of the sparkle was missing from his eyes. He wondered whether it was just the result of today's failure or if the signs had been there for a while and he had just not noticed them.

Then there was the inconceivable to consider. What if the little old lady on the train was right? What if they really weren't "cut out for this sort of thing" anymore?

Little did Kid know, but similar thoughts were at that very moment going through Hannibal Heyes' head too.

At Deadman Point the riders paused while Heyes raised his Schofield and fired three shots into the air. As they prepared to ride on a tall thin figure clad from head to toe in black, an Amish style hat set square on his head, appeared atop a large rock over to their right. A shotgun lay balanced across his arm.

Preacher raised a hand in greeting. "Howdy boys." 

Clearly irritated, Heyes frowned and tutted prompting Kid to say, "Preacher, you do know you're supposed to stay hid."

"Aaww, Kid. I bin watchin' ya since y'all came through Cursed Water Gulch - weren't nobody followin'."

Curry was just about to point out that rules were made for following when Preacher spoke again.

"Ain't seen no sign of Wheat 'n' the others."

"They haven't ridden in yet?" Heyes feigned surprise.

"Not yet."

"Well, they can't be far behind us," Heyes assured him with a tight smile as he turned his horse to move on.

"Y'all get separated or somethin'?"

Heyes huffed out a breath and frowned again as his sharp hearing caught Kid's muttered, "Yeah, somethin'."

Aware that his partner's mood was starting to reflect the day's tension and frustration, Curry said tartly. "Just go stay where you're supposed to, will ya... and keep your eyes peeled. Understand?" 

"Sure thing, Kid." Preacher waved as he turned and disappeared from view to take up his position at the vantage point once more.

It took another twenty minutes before Heyes and Curry heard the sound of the waterfall which fell from the ridge to the rear of the hideout, then another five before the familiar collection of wooden buildings came into view through the trees. 

Kid raised his hand in salute to Travis who was on watch at the top of the cascade before the two outlaws swung themselves out of their saddles and, a little stiff-legged, led their horses into the corral. They worked a well-practiced system each tending to a different aspect of their tired animals' needs without having to give it too much actual thought. 

Eventually they made their way out of the barn, past the old broken-down wagon and across the wooden planks placed over the stream which split the hideout in two. Reaching the porch of the leader's cabin they divested themselves of their coats and shook what seemed like half of Wyoming off them as well as brushing the trail dust from their trousers.

When he was done Heyes pushed open the door to the cabin that he and Kid called 'Home' and, before hardly taking a step inside, threw his hat onto the table with such vehemence that the railroad timetable along with his notes on the Columbine job flew in all directions. Striding over to the fireplace he leaned with outstretched arms against it, his head down, trying to steady himself. 

Curry followed him inside and closed the door. Calmly placing his hat on a hook he leant his back against the cabin wall, folded his arms across his chest and studied his partner. Neither man moved or spoke for a long minute. Curry finally broke the silence.

"You wanna tell me what's eatin' at ya?"

Heyes took a slow deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly shut it again. Kid waited but, when nothing was forthcoming, he tried again. "I know you're gonna tell me."

"Aaahh...." his partner began, but just shook his head and again went quiet.

"Look, Heyes, I don't want you pacin' the floor in the middle of the night and wakin' me up to tell me what you're thinkin'. I'd rather get it over with now. So, come on....out with it."

Heyes straightened up and pushed his bangs away from his tired eyes as he turned from the cold fireplace.

"I guess I'm just a might sore, that's all."

"Geez, we ain't spent that long in the saddle today."

Glaring at Kid over his shoulder the outlaw leader moved towards the small sofa. "Not that kinda sore! Angry sore," he snapped as he threw himself down onto the threadbare cushions.

"Oh," said Kid. He kept his tone even. "Who you sore at? Not me, I hope."

"No, no, not you."

"Wheat?"

Heyes leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. His anger fading suddenly, he hung his head and stared dejectedly at the floor. "Wheat, Kyle, Preacher. Myself, mostly." 

"I already told ya, Heyes. You can't get it right all the time."

Hannibal Heyes' was clever; there was no getting away from that. He could plan a job right down to the smallest detail and convey that plan to his men in simple terms. His outstanding ability as a safe-cracker as well as a con-man had gone a long way in making him and the Kid two of the most successful outlaws in the West. However, there were times when these skills revealed a propensity for arrogance and it hit him hard when his self-proclaimed brilliance was brought into question. 

"I used to, Kid, but...just look what I'm having to deal with these days," he said through a sigh.

"Huh?" 

"Well, first of all, there's Kyle. I mean, what was he thinkin'? Fancy not realizing the dynamite was getting wet when we crossed the river."

"Kyle ain't real smart, Heyes. You know that." Kid grinned. "Let's face it, you only put him in charge of the dynamite 'cause blowin' things up makes him happy." 

A lop-sided smile passed across Heyes' lips as he remembered Kyle's enthusiasm a few months back when he entrusted him with the dynamite. The smile faded as he silently began to question whether his decision to place that much responsibility on the small, not-so-smart man's shoulders had been such a good idea after all.

Heyes stood up and started to pace the floor. He pushed his hands through his lank, hat-flattened hair. 

"Then there's Wheat," he said, irritation returning. "These past few weeks he's done nothin' 'cept try and turn the boys against me every chance he got. Telling them he's got better ideas than me. Pfftt..., ideas," he scoffed. "He's never had an idea in his life!"

"They ain't gonna follow Wheat," Kid reassured him. "Anyways, if there's a problem, I'll go over to the bunkhouse and have a quiet word with 'em. Set 'em straight on who's Leader."

Heyes was in no doubt that the Kid's 'quiet word' would probably take the form of a veiled threat which was how the gunman usually brought the gang into line. It just wasn't the way he would choose to do it. He preferred to use the silver-tongued approach but, he had to admit, there had been times in the past when Curry's reputation with a gun had made him a useful enforcer, especially in the early days of his leadership.

He smiled appreciatively at his cousin. "Thanks, Kid... I know you've always got my back."

 

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

 

Sundown came and the moon began its progress across the night sky but still the remaining members of the Devil's Hole Gang had not returned. It was too soon to start getting anxious - they had split up on numerous occasions in the past and made it back okay - so, Heyes and the Kid ate supper over at the bunkhouse and even stayed for a couple of hours playing blackjack with Travis and Preacher; Mike and Lucky Johnson having taken their places on watch.

A little after two a.m. Kid Curry woke with a start, pulled his revolver from the holster at his bedside and aimed it into the darkness. The triple click of the hammer being cocked stopped the intruder in his tracks.

The striking of a match illuminated the figure of Hannibal Heyes clad only in his long johns and henley as he lit the wick on a kerosene lamp that he had just placed on the dresser. He bent and picked up the blanket that had dropped from his shoulders. Fall was on its way and the nights had started to feel decidedly chilly.

"Aaww, Heyes," groaned Curry, un-cocking his pistol and replacing it, rather unceremoniously, in its holster. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Lighting the lamp so I can see," Heyes explained earnestly.

"I don't mean that. I mean... aaww Heyes. It's the middle of the night!"

"Mmmm. So where is it?" Heyes' brown eyes blinked enthusiastically in direct contrast to Kid's bleary, blue ones. 

"Where's what?"

"The piece of paper."

"What piece of paper?"

"The one the little old lady from Boston gave you."

Kid Curry shook his head and reached toward his holster again. "So help me, Heyes, I'm gonna shoot ya."

Still waiting for an answer Heyes raised his eyebrows.

Kid yawned loudly as he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his discarded clothes. "Shirt pocket, I think." 

Retrieving Kid's shirt from the cabin floor Heyes felt the two breast pockets. Pulling out the piece of paper with a flourish he dropped the shirt, picked up the lamp and walked back into the main room.

The sleepy blond breathed a weary sigh and punched his pillow. He was about to turn over when his partner's face appeared around the door.

"What are you laying there for?"

"Huh?"

"We need to talk."

"Heyes, we'll talk in the mornin'," Kid shifted onto his side and curled his arm over his head.

"But it's important."

Kid Curry clenched his jaw and, emphasising each word, said through gritted teeth. "So is my sleep!"

As quick as a whip snake, Heyes stepped into the room grabbed a handful of the blankets covering his cousin and tugged them from the bed, trailing them behind him as he returned to the other room. Cold air rushed over Kid's red union suit.

"Hey! What the...?" Temper flaring, Kid rolled out of bed and stomped after his partner, intent on retrieving his blankets and going back to sleep except of course, now he was awake and out of bed. Heyes really knew how to play him, dammit!

The outlaw leader sat cross-legged on the old sofa holding the torn amnesty flier towards the lamp, reading it carefully. Having only given it a cursory glance earlier in the day Heyes wanted to make sure he understood what it said.

Kid continued his march towards the blankets that had been dropped on the sofa and wrapped one around himself. He sat quietly until his cousin had finished reading.

"So?" 

"Hmm?" Deep in thought Heyes looked up, his eyes momentarily unfocussed.

"What's triggered the sudden interest in amnesty, Heyes? You told me it's for small time crooks - not for the likes of us."

Heyes blinked himself back into the moment. "Oh, I just got to thinkin'..."

"That much I figured," Kid cut in.

Ignoring his partner's sarcasm, Heyes continued. "I got to thinkin' that this outlawin' business is starting to feel too much like hard work. Let's face it, Kid, we started robbing trains and banks 'cause it was easy money but now, well...it ain't that easy any more. It's getting real difficult, not to mention dangerous!"

"Well, the little old lady did say it may be the answer to all of our problems."

"And she was right."

Kid's heavy-lidded eyes opened in surprise. "She was?"

"Yep, this amnesty deal might be just what we need. Now all we have to do is work out how to get it."

With a deep sigh Kid almost whined with sleep-deprived frustration. "Can't this wait 'til mornin'? Please!"

Heyes shook his head as he stood up. "Uh uh. I do my best thinkin' in the middle of the night. Anyway, you know me, Kid, when I'm working on a plan I can't sleep 'til I got it figured out." 

"Neither can anybody else."

"So," said Heyes as he began to pace back and forth, "I suppose we start by getting word to the Governor that we want to be considered for an amnesty."

"How we gonna do that? By telegraph?"

"No, no, that's way too risky. If we put in the telegraph who we are the telegrapher would probably just turn us in for the reward money. At best, all we'd end up doing is putting another posse on our tail."

"Well, we sure can't ride into Cheyenne and knock on the Governor's door, Heyes."

"I know. We need to talk to someone on his side of the law, Kid. A sheriff, a judge even," he added, with a shrug. "We need a lawman we can trust."

"Pfftt. That'll be a real short list." 

Curry watched as Heyes continued pacing then his blue eyes narrowed and he said slowly. "I hope you ain't suggestin' we turn ourselves in." 

Abruptly the outlaw leader halted, mid pace. "Huh. Maybe I am, at that," he said quietly, almost to himself.

Curry sat up, fully awake now. "Are you crazy?!" he asked incredulously.

Heyes turned to face his cousin. "How many sheriffs do we know - personally?"

"By my reckonin'...er...none."

A slow grin crept its way across Heyes' face. "Oh, but we do."

"We do?" 

"Yeah, the sheriff over at Porterville. Lom Trevors, remember him? He was with the gang when Big Jim was runnin' things. He left, oh, must have been a month or two after I became Leader. He was a real bad apple in his younger days from what I hear, but he turned his life around and ended up becoming a sheriff."

"And he could do what, exactly?"

"Kid, we need someone to go and see the Governor on our behalf; to do our talkin'. Lom went straight - well, straight enough to be a sheriff anyways - so who better to convince the Governor that we can do it too, provided we have that amnesty."

Kid frowned, scepticism written all over his face. "The Governor's gonna take some convincing, Heyes. Lom wasn't wanted dead or alive by all those railroad men and bankers like we are. They're powerful people. Can't see that they're gonna like it if the Territory of Wyoming ain't gonna lock us up for all the robbin' we've done."

"Aaww, Lom'll work out what to say to him, Kid. From what I recall, he's real smart."

"So what do we do? Just walk into his office and tell him what we want. Is that the plan?"

"I don't have a better one."

"And you trust him, do you?"

At the mention of trusting an officer of the law a small element of doubt started to steal into Heyes' mind. "Well, I...er—." 

"How do you know that he won't just lock us up and claim the reward for hisself?"

Heyes knew his cousin's argument was realistic and his shoulders dropped as, momentarily discouraged, he slumped down on the sofa again. 

"I know. It is a risk. I'm an odds player and when I look at the odds..." Heyes stared down at his slender, safe-cracking fingers and sighed. When he looked up again there was a renewed fervour in his eyes. 

"Kid, we've gotta do it! If we really want our lives to change this amnesty is as good a way as any to go about it. It's worth a try, don't you think?"

Kid Curry yawned, stood up and gathered both his blankets into his chest and out of Heyes' reach.

"Tell ya what, Heyes. Let me sleep on it 'cause I do my best thinkin' when I'm asleep."

 

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

 

The sky was just starting to lighten in the east the next time Kid opened his eyes. Full dawn wouldn't reach Devil's Hole until the sun cleared the surrounding bluffs; until then it would remain in an eerie half-light. He lay there for a time, half-way between sleep and waking and gradually becoming aware that it wasn't the sun that had woken him. He could smell coffee brewing, hear the crackling of a newly lit fire, not to mention the sound of footsteps walking back and forth on the bare floorboards.

Finally, he swung his legs out of bed and pulled on his socks and the dusty brown trousers he'd worn yesterday. Rubbing his blond curls as he wandered into the next room the first thing he saw was Hannibal Heyes stuffing what appeared to be all his worldly possessions into his saddlebags. 

Needing to wake up a little more before he got into anything with his partner he grabbed a cup, crouched down by the fire and poured himself some of the hot liquid from the simmering pot. Well, Heyes had made it so you couldn't rightly call it coffee. Kid could think of a few other words to describe it, and frequently did, but this morning he just sipped it tentatively as he stood and watched.

Heyes made two more trips into his bedroom before Kid could summon up the wherewithal to voice the question that was on his lips.

"Wanna tell me what you're doin'."

"Packing."

Kid sighed. "Well, if all you're gonna do is state the obvious I think I'll just take me back to bed." He was about to return to his room when Heyes moved to block his way.

"Oh no you don't, you've gotta pack. We've gotta get going."

"Goin'? Where?"

"Porterville, of course; to see Lom about the amnesty."

Kid looked incredulously at his cousin. "Now?!"

"No time like the present," Heyes affirmed with a broad grin.

"But... I ain't even agreed to the idea yet."

"Yes, you did."

"I did?" 

"Mmm hmm. Last night." Heyes nodded, his face a picture of sincerity.

Curry couldn't remember agreeing to anything last night but then again, he had been half asleep. He thought for a moment then asked, "What about Wheat and the boys? Ain't we gonna wait 'til they get back so we can tell them what we're doin'?"

Heyes gave a derisive snort and smiled again. "Aaww, Wheat's been itching to be leader for months now so I'm betting he'll be right pleased when he finds I'm not here anymore. The boys seemed happy enough following him yesterday. They'll be fine on their own, Kid. Anyways, they'd probably only try and talk us out of it."

"I guess," Kid agreed, then his face took on a puzzled look. "Porterville ain't far, what we gotta pack for?"

Placing a reassuring hand on his cousin's shoulder, Heyes' smile turned into a look of concern. "Kid, I hate to break this to you but, if we're gonna go straight we can't be associating with outlaws any more. Devil's Hole can't be our home. We won't be coming back."

"Sheesh." 

Kid stared into his coffee cup while he processed this information. As pleased as he was to see the shine back in Heyes' eyes he had a feeling deep inside him that it was too early in the day for him to be making such potentially life-changing decisions. Suddenly, he looked up, his expression resolute. 

"Okay, Heyes. I'll start packin', but I ain't goin' nowhere on an empty stomach, 'specially if it's gonna involve meetin' with a sheriff."

Heyes took a deep breath and was just about to point out that stopping for breakfast would probably delay their arrival in Porterville until nightfall, when Curry's gunfighter stare began to make an appearance daring him to raise an objection. Heyes then did something that very few people could make him do - he capitulated.

"Okay, okay, I'll start some bacon frying while you wash and shave. There's hot water in that jug next to the fire. Oh, and Kid," he wrinkled his nose a little as he stepped to one side to let his cousin pass. "You might want to change those clothes too. Best we look - and smell - good if we're going to be callin' on a lawman."

 

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

 

Heyes' prediction had been correct, it was well after sundown by the time they rode into the bustling town of Porterville. However, they both felt a little more comfortable and less likely to be spotted under cover of darkness than they would have felt had they arrived earlier in the day. 

Trotting down the main street they kept a wary eye out for potential problems while, at the same time, trying to locate the sheriff's office. It wasn't long before Heyes spotted it; a large brick building situated - huh, where else? he thought ironically - right next to the bank.

They hitched their horses to a rail on the little square much to the consternation of a courting couple who, not liking the idea of horses snorting in their ears, abruptly got up and moved away. 

The two outlaws strolled across the street as nonchalantly as possible. With his back against the wall Heyes cast a quick glance around the square before leaning round to peer in through the office window. Lom Trevors was sitting at his desk, turning the pages of a large ledger.

"It's him," Heyes said simply, relieved that their old friend was still the town sheriff.

Kid pointed to the side of the building and disappeared down the alleyway to check the rear exits while Heyes straightened his hat and rapped smartly on the heavy double doors. Hearing a gruff "Come in" he took a deep breath and stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.

The sheriff 's eyes didn't leave his paperwork so Heyes moved closer to the desk and loudly cleared his throat. 

"What can I do for ya?" asked the sheriff a little impatiently, still not looking up. 

Heyes smiled. 

"Howdy, Lom."


End file.
